The Best Laid Plans...
General Briefings Room ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Though the place's title may label this a briefing "room", it is actually more of a lecture hall or theatre. Rows upon rows of seats, each with a built-in computer terminal, are situated in tiered fashion to allow everyone a few of the front. Provided for purposes of instruction or briefing are a podium and an enormous holoscreen. Various signs gently remind attendees what exits are available in the event of an emergency. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Silvereye steps into the briefing room, pulling his jacket on over his shoulders. A few Demarian officers are already seated, awaiting the arrival of the Vanguard. Three men enter the room, all in identical uniform - that is, Vanguard urban fatigues. One is tall, bald and gaunt faced and bears the rank of Colonel and the name Robinson, apparent from the four bars on his rank slip. The second one is a gruff, short & younger looking man with almost whiteish blond hair, bearing the rank of Major and the name Holkeri. The third, of course, is the Sergeant Major Tullius Castus. Colonel Robinson, the ranking officer, gives Silvereye a salute. All three of them wear the tan beret of Vanguard Special Forces. Silvereye returns the colonel's salute. "Thank you for coming, gentlemen." He offers to the Vanguard. "Please be seated." The Demarians already seated wear marine uniforms, the rank pins ranging from Shortclaw to Bloodclaw. Without further ado, the three Vanguard soldiers move to take a seat, nodding at the already seated Demarians. Despite the fact that Republic soldiers & citizens have a reputation of xenophobia, the Demarians are one race this doesn't really apply to. Why or why not is up for speculation. "Alright." Silvereye begins. The screen behind him comes to life. "We've received what we believe to be actionable intelligence regarding the location of the hostages. Thermal images taken from the Moonstalker network last night confirm tribal movement in the Alhiran ruins, which is usually a no-go area for them." He gestures towards the ruins of what was once a suburb of the city, causing it to be blown up on screen. "High altitude flyovers during the night confirmed the thermal images and we have good face-to-face intelligence to suggest that we're looking at Redmask's lair." The two officers stay quiet. It's the senior NCO that raises his hand. Silvereye gestures towards Lucius. "Sergeant." Lucius asks, "This Redmask is the leader of the insurgents as a whole? Or simply the one who did the kidnapping?" "We suspect that he's the ringleader." Silvereye replies. "The two tribals that were apprehended during the political rally attack have confirmed that." "Seen." Lucius answers simply, lowering his hand. "We're looking at a joint operation." Silvereye replies. "The Vanguard combat teams have more experience with this sort of thing than we do but Demaria is our planet and we're rescuing Demarians. Fortunately we've already gotten a chance to feel each other out over the past few weeks and during the Phyrrian War. Demarian objectives with Vanguard field command, combat burden shared by both sides." The colonel nods thoughtfully. "That sounds like exactly what we can work with. No reason to get on a tangent of one-upping. We're all military men and women here, and we're all professionals. One question, Battleclaw." Colonel Robinson pauses, grimacing briefly before resuming his neutral expression. "I've been told to ask what's the possible political fallout for letting a group of offworlders assist? I understood there's a very popular isolationalist faction in your government." "Winners win, Colonel." Silvereye replies. "The President is in a difficult position, politically. But I am not in a difficult position militarily. My job is to win, and it is to use whatever tools I have available to win. We've worked with the Vanguard before, and we'll have our people on the ground. I would rather rely on experience in a joint operation and bring everyone home, regardless of the political vitriol, than be stubborn and get my people killed." The Colonel smiles grimly. "I suspect it's the politicos back home who wanted to protect their asses if bad should come of it." The Sergeant Major chuckles. "Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em. We're a-okay, Battleclaw." The Colonel nods. "We're clear for this. What other information do you have on this group?" "Very little." Silvereye replies. "But they are surprisingly well armed. We've run analysis of the arms captured during the political rally and on the holofeed. What's remarkable is how unremarkable they are. Modern milspec through and through. Please do not mistake Redmask and his group for a bunch of tribals with sticks." "The fools in the Guardian Fleet made that mistake with the Outbacker clans, several times, Battleclaw. We know what we're dealing with, actually, I think. We're fortunate to have years of experience from conflict with the Outbackers under the former regime." The Colonel acknowledges. "Well armed, very motivated. Decently trained and they know the terrain far better than anyone else." The Major, so far silent, finally pipes in. "The advantage is that they're apparently out of their normal territory. They've probably had a few weeks to settle in, but it's still not their backyard. In what capacity will your armed forces serve, Battleclaw?" The Major's ice blue eyes regard Silvereye carefully. "I want Demarian boots on the ground, Major." Silvereye replies. "Unless there is objection we can handle insertion and retrieval, but I would like some of my marines under Bloodclaw Firechaser to be involved in the operation. You've conducted exercises with them before, you know they're competent." "Absolutely." The Major agrees. "More than competent. With a small military like you guys, you can't settle for just that." A wry grin he gives, and a nod to the Demarians present and their professionalism. Acknowledgement among peers. The NCO puts some more words, again. "What kind of strength are they estimated at? Men, material, any vehicles? RPGs? Should we be worried about our air support?" "We are reasonably certain that we enjoy complete air supremacy." Silvereye replies. "And we have not observed any vehicle movement. But I cannot comment on the existence of any surface-to-air weaponry or explosives beyond the grenades we saw used at the political rally and the improvised device. But we're not totally in the dark." He reaches for a folder and starts to distribute glossy photographs to the Vanguard. "For archaeological and other reasons we have very good maps of the Alhiran ruins. This is the complex in question." The Vanguard soldiers take the photographs and after quick glances, tuck them away in folders they brought with. "We'll assume that they've got handheld SAMs or other means to take down aircraft. Probably means a foot insertion a few clicks away." Ponders Castus. The Colonel gets up, followed by his subordinates. He says, "We'll look this over, Battleclaw. I'd appreciate it if any other intel gets sent our way too. For now the Franklin's on planet - official reason is crosstraining. We'll have a more complete briefing sometime soon, then?" Silvereye nods to the Colonel. "Within the next few days at the very latest. I'm in the process of freeing up assets for the operation and making sure that my new bondmate doesn't kill me for sneaking out to work on our honeymoon but we will do this right." The colonel extends his hand to Silvereye, smiling in that experienced, 'Oh I've Been There' kind of way. "Congratulations, Battleclaw. Just make sure to keep on top. Else she might drown you." He taps his wedding ring. "We'll be here. We might need to jet back to Hancock tommorow or the day after. Politics, again. Apparently New Luna's ours." He rolls his eyes. "We'll keep in touch." Silvereye takes the hand. "It's all politics, in the end." The Battleclaw replies. "Keep in touch. I want to launch as soon as possible." He leaves New Luna off the table. Just as well, cause the Colonel doesn't look like he wants to pursue that particular topic any more. "Keep safe, Battleclaw." As he turns around to exit, the familiar line of nodding and such takes place. Lucius winks at Silvereye, smirking on his way out. Category:Classic Military logs Category:Classic Demarian logs Category:Classic Demaria logs Category:DemArc The Noble Gambit